You Get Off On This
by jeviennis
Summary: Just some minor fluff. John tries to resist Mycroft's latest case.


You Get Off On This

"Mycroft, I am going to ask you one more time, as politely as possible; shut up."

Sherlock sat across the room from his brother, legs crossed elegantly, his sharp suit freshly laundered. John stared at the pair with a despondent look. He really did not understand them. One was the British Government, the other was the world's smartest man. John was a doctor that got shot in the shoulder one time. He was nothing special. Those two, on the other hand, the Holmes brothers, they were – well, they were certainly something. But determined as they were to outdo each other at every given opportunity, John could see that there was some brotherly love, somewhere. They might not call it 'love', more 'feelings of less distaste than usual' or 'slightly tolerable', but he knew it was there.

"Oh Sherlock, I would if I could, but I'm running on a rather tight schedule, and time for you to mull over and then ultimately refuse any case I give you is not on said schedule. I require your answer within a day, or I give it to Lestrade and that Anderson fellow. I'm sure they will be able to figure something out."

Mycroft strode from the room without so much as goodbye, but he knew his work was done. Sherlock hated Anderson enough to want to steal any and all cases from him, regardless of their origin. This never ceased to amaze John; as much as Sherlock disliked adhering to anything Mycroft said, Anderson was the one person that made him swallow his impossibly large sense of pride and carry out the case.

"You know, if you could experiment on yourself, the results you'd get would be groundbreaking."

Sherlock threw John one of his trademark 'what-a-witty-statement' looks before returning to the large brown envelope that sat on the desk before him.

"Of course they would be groundbreaking. Have you met me?"

Looked like the pride was back.

"Yes, Sherlock, I have met you. You don't need to remind me. So, do you need my help or can I go to bed? Please tell Mycroft not to turn up at one in the morning next time."

Sherlock didn't even bother to raise his head this time, just waved dismissively over his shoulder and began rifling through a book that lay next to the case notes. John yawned and ruffled his hair, turning away to walk back upstairs. At least he wouldn't be woken by the violin tonight; Sherlock had something to do.

"Goodnight Sherlock."

"Wait, where are you going?"

"To bed, Sherlock! You know, sleep? What humans need? We can't all be weird androids like you."

Sherlock gave him the look again.

"You've been watching too much television again, John."

John knew better than to argue with Sherlock. Besides, he couldn't help himself; that envelope just looked so inviting, calling him in. Sherlock noticed John eyeing up the notes like a predator and grinned inwardly. The man just couldn't keep away from it. He nudged the brown folder towards the doctor and raised his eyebrows suggestively. _Donovan was right, _thought John, _he really does get off on this. _But then again, he did too.

"Well, I have to do something to fill the void between working with you, working at my actual work and trying to sleep, don't I?"

Sherlock smiled again, that proper real smile – not the one he gave people when he was trying to get into the morgue late, not that one that he was forced to give people when he knew that they weren't going to leave him alone, but the one that he actually meant. He could never quite work out why he did it, but when he and John were sat down working on a case, eating Chinese and deducing movie plot lines, he couldn't really control it. He liked talking to John – now that was something that didn't find often.

"Really John, don't take me for a fool; you get off on it too."

John gave a resigned sigh and picked up the folder, trying to keep the curiosity off of his face. But as Sherlock's icy eyes probed him, John's resolve crumbled and he practically leapt off of the sofa to grab the study.

He was right. As much as he hated to admit it, he got off on it as well.


End file.
